


Fuck Your Festivity!

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [8]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Business Venture, Court Case, F/M, Fluff, Justice, Love, Marriage, Pregnancy, bit of angst if you squint, comfort and feels, cuddlecore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly married and expecting a child, Sam has a little business venture and money making scheme, but she hasn't told Malcolm about it yet. </p><p>He is preoccupied with the post-Goolding court case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck Your Festivity!

**Author's Note:**

> Back to the married Malcolm AU for this one. 
> 
> A lighter one after all the angst of Shitstorm. Due to the fact that since the beginning of this month its been difficult for me and I've been struggling a bit, I've found it hard to write. So I hope the quality hasn't suffered too much as a result! 
> 
> Although this is a married/pregnant story, it's less about that and more about the interaction between the two of them, interspersed with the impending court case and what it might mean for their future. 
> 
> This story follows my 'After The Party' fic and takes place in amongst the events from my 'Dignity' story.  
> (These two are early fics and when I reread them I realise how crap they are, and for that I apologise most profusely! I hope and pray I've improved since then, but only the reader can really be the judge of that!) 
> 
> The story was a prompt from @flydye88 on tumblr. 
> 
> As with the last one she sent me, it is a doozy and I'm extremely grateful to her for sending it. 
> 
>  
> 
> _"This might make a great little story, Sam decides to start an online business so she can spend more time with her new baby when it comes. It probably will have to fit in early in your Tucker series"_
> 
>  
> 
> So it does, and it has!! Thank you @flydye88! 
> 
> I also enclose the illustrations, posted on tumblr which I think gave her the original idea!! 
> 
> I need these in my life. Lol.

FUCK YOUR FESTIVITY!

"FUCK YOUR FESTIVITY!"

The new Samantha Tucker was alone. 

Her husband of a few weeks gone to meet his lawyers. Embroiled in a monumental legal case which would threaten the sanity of even the strongest of minds. 

Her husband! How weird did that sound? 

Glancing down and swivelling the plain gold band on her finger. Identical to his. 

Sometimes she couldn't believe what had happened to her in the past few months.  
Utter incomprehension.  
The Goolding Enquiry over. Moments when she feared for him so desperately.

Liars, every one of them. 

_Et tu Brute._

His words to Ollie came back to haunt him. His political exit. Stripped of his dignity. 

_"'There he goes' they'll say......no friends, no real friends, no children, no glory, no memoirs.....well fuck them....."_

......and yet he did have friends, in the aftermath of the Enquiry they slowly emerged. Blinking into the sunlight.  
Glenn, Angela Heaney, Jamie McDonald. 

Somehow he rose above it all. After days of sleepless numb inertia. 

The two of them finally coming together. It took a whole week. Before the flood gates broke and out it came. 

Declaring and consummating their love for one another, a love which had always been present but denied for so long. By both of them. 

Malcolm's profound depression following the Enquiry fallout. Vilified universally in the press and other media as a liar and a fraud. The very worst of men. 

Headlines screamed.......

_"The Dark Lord Falls." The Sun._

_"Balrog is dead!" Daily Mirror_

_"Tucker finished, the reign of the spin doctor is over." The Telegraph._

_"Malcolm Tucker's lies exposed." The Guardian._

Adjusting to a new and quieter life.  
Removed from the corridors of Whitehall. But not free from the shame. 

Months of uncertainty. His woman his only constant. 

Phone calls from the papers were frequent. They wanted a story, and they didn't let up.  
Hounding him. Papped whenever he set foot outside the house, they even followed Sam to the bloody supermarket. 

Cunts. 

Malcolm flatly refused to accommodate them, he would not defend himself, there was nothing to defend. He knew himself to be innocent, but there was nothing he could do to prove it. 

Then, revelations.  
Hitting them both like a punchbag. 

Discovering her pregnancy.  
Totally unplanned. Nothing short of a bloody miracle. 

But Malcolm was so fucking euphoric. 

Followed by a romantic proposal, then marriage.  
All so sudden, her feet barely touched the ground. A veritable whirlwind. 

Yet somehow it was so right, and Malcolm, from that moment, began a slow and determined recovery. 

A completely new life, or rather, two lives. The one for him and the one inside his wife. 

Sam herself was not one to remain idle. Not for her laying back or wallowing in self indulgence. While Malcolm languished, fighting his own listlessness, her own quick and clever mind formulated plans. 

A little business venture. She smiled to herself now at the thought of it. 

Publicity, that's what she needed.  
Good publicity.  
Turning the media circus, mockery and ridicule to their own ends. Capitalising on it. Using it, as it had used them.

So, she persuaded Malcolm to reluctantly agree to one story, for Angela. Only she was to be trusted to paint him in anything remotely resembling a human light.  
A redemption piece.......  
Life after disgrace. Rising from the ashes of his own demise. Picking up the pieces of a shattered existence. His struggle.  
Their life now. Her business. Reinventing himself.....whilst knowing himself to be an innocent man. 

Heaney, a competent and well respected journalist, also raised the question of the Enquiry's very legitimacy and impartiality.

When the article hit the presses, there was an absolute furore.  
Questions were suddenly being asked. 

The right questions. 

_Was Malcolm Tucker set up?_  
_Had others lied? If so, who?_  
_Lord Goolding himself appeared to show bias. Was he bribed? Was Baroness Sureka compromised?_  
_Who really leaked?_  
_Had his political enemies conspired against him? Why was Dan Miller not questioned?_

Suddenly there were new headlines....

_"Was Tucker innocent?" The Daily Mail_

_"Malcolm Tucker the scapegoat?" London Evening Standard_

_"Was Spin Doctor set up......." Financial Times_

But no one really believed it at first.......Malcolm's fearsome reputation took some demolishing. It was difficult for the public to take on board that he was really an honest and loyal man, who was extremely lovable and just misunderstood! A bridge too far! 

No one at least until Sam's brother Paul, stirred the hornet's nest further, arriving at their home one evening with his startling exposé.

The shock for both of them was palpable. Malcolm's eyes narrowing as he closely scrutinised the obviously digitally altered photograph. Zooming in on the heavily cropped picture. Himself on the street in Whitehall, file under his arm.  
Suddenly it all became clear. 

The Tickel numbers visible, his accuser's one piece of damning evidence.  
There in Malcolm's hands.  
The moment he knew he was fucked. 

Sam closed her eyes tight as she remembered his violent reaction at the discovery, sweeping the contents of his desk onto the floor, roaring as if in agony, before sinking down, his head on the table top. Thumping it with closed fists.  
Meltdown.  
Frustration and anger, sorrow and pain, all in equal measure. 

He was the patsy. That much was now certain. 

So, with the indomitable Greg Fraser at his side, a formidable legal team, the investigation opened and began to take shape.  
It was in progress right now.  
All hell was going to break lose.  
The shit was going to hit the fan. Heads would undoubtedly roll. 

Not Malcolm Tucker's. His severed bonce had already been displayed on a virtual spike, but now it was time to take it down, time to rebuild the broken man. 

Sam was so sure he'd be exonerated. 

Part of him wanted to leave it, they'd had their pound of flesh, _'fuck 'em'._ Malcolm had more now than he could ever have hoped for in his wildest dreams, a wife, and a baby on the way......but the old Malcolm Tucker resurfaced. The rest of him burned to hunt them down.  
The dye was cast. 

The support network he now had, gave him the strength he needed.  
Girding his loins to face them all, his accusers, his abusers, with his head held high. 

For better for worse. 

He would have his, _"I told you so..."_ moment. 

oOo

 

Sam was in their bedroom. 

In front of the full length mirror. 

Untying the robe she was wearing and pushing it back, she examined her own reflection closely. 

Turning to the left, her hands running over her swollen belly. 

She could hardly believe it. 

A child.

Living and growing inside her. 

Malcolm's child. 

She was going to be a mother. 

Swivelling to the right, she beheld her body's new profile from a different angle. Rounded and smooth. The skin tightening almost daily. 

A tiny miracle, made from such deep and abiding love. 

She stroked herself tenderly, a dark line running from her now sticky out tummy button to her pubic region.  
Breasts enlarged, blue veins running across them like the roads on a map, her nipples darkened. 

She was about to move, head off for a shower, when she jumped with surprise, as a pair of wiry arms were threaded around her gradually thickening midriff.  
A tender kiss placed against her neck. 

So rapt had her attention been that she hadn't heard him come home, or his foot on the stair. 

The long fingers of both his hands splayed across her stomach, caressing her, as the kisses continued. 

"So fucking beautiful!" He whispered. 

"Beautiful?" She scoffed, amused, leaning back against him. "I look like a bloody sperm whale....and my tits look like melons! Look what you've done to me!" 

She rotated herself in his embrace and stuck her belly outwards, so that it was between them.  
To her astonishment, Malcolm sank down to his knees at her feet. Reverentially pressing his face to her skin. His hands still resting on either side of her bump. 

"You, and this little one. You are my life now." He said gently. "Everything else is just fucking bullshit." 

Her fingers toyed with his hair, scratching his scalp soothingly. 

"How did it go?" She enquired fondly. "With Greg?" 

Malcolm pulled away reluctantly, raised himself up and turned away, a slight tremble in the voice, the intimate moment shattered. 

"It's all going ahead. It looks as though it might lead to Brewer." He replied, divesting himself of his jacket distractedly and throwing it haphazardly onto the bed. 

"Brewer? THE Brewer?" Her eyebrows arched, this was an unexpected curveball, how well she remembered the scumbag who had once cornered her at the office party. The man from whose lecherous clutches Malcolm had once rescued her.  
The oily tosser who was subsequently dealt with by him, in no uncertain terms. 

"Yeah. And guess who's his bessie mate? The guy he fagged for at Oxbridge?" 

Sam waited expectantly for the big reveal. 

"None other than Oliver Reeder!" 

Her hands went up to her face. 

"Oh good God! Malcolm!" 

oOo

"So, do you want to hear about my new venture?" She began, attracting her husband's wavering attention. 

They were curled together on the sofa after dinner. The television playing but neither of them paying it much mind.  
Malcolm concentrating on rubbing her stomach, it had become his latest most favourite occupation.  
The incomparable delights of stretch mark oil.  
One evening he'd discovered her applying it.....had asked if he could be allowed do it for her.....permission duly granted, it was now an almost nightly ritual. 

Sam sitting, enthroned, propped with cushions, the voluptuous curve of tummy exposed. Malcolm smoothing the Bio Oil gently into her skin.  
It was his precious little time with his unborn child. Sam found it both sensual and soothing.  
Touching her thus would sometimes also evoke movement.  
Feeling the baby kick was such a profound and momentous thing for him that it frequently almost bought him to tears. 

Quite magical. 

Tonight was no different. She was just over seven months now. The undulations from her womb were strengthening as the foetus grew.  
To Malcolm it was the most fascinating and wonderful thing he'd ever dreamed of or imagined.  
As were the subtle changes in her body which he observed daily. 

Never thought he'd be lucky enough to be a part of such a thing. 

His wife. 

So newly his. Still finding it hard to comprehend. 

How lovely she was. Why did she love him? So much younger than he and how he adored her! 

Blossoming there almost before his eyes. She literally glowed with health and vitality, once the early symptoms disappeared. Her skin radiant. Eyes bright. Hair glossy and sleek. 

Jesus! He, a married man, soon to be a father. 

It was all a fucking miracle, and he'd never be able to quantify quite what it meant to him. 

For Malcolm the whole thing was a huge turn on, he found it all most erotic, he also loved that she was, more often than not these days, rather horny! And there was a whole exploration in itself! Finding new ways to make love to a woman who was now the shape of a space hopper! Experimenting was half the fun! 

 

"Hmmmm?" He murmured drowsily. 

"Earth to Malc! Come in Malc! My new venture! I'm a business woman now you know......I've been quietly beavering away. But I didn't tell you because you've been so preoccupied with the case......and anyway, there was nothing to tell.....I wanted to wait, to surprise you, so I thought I'd keep it to myself for a while......"

Malcolm sat up sharply, the circular motion of his hand momentarily stilled. He regarded his new spouse with his direct and intense gaze. 

"What's all this....?" 

Sam placed her hand lovingly over his and directed him to resume his ministrations. 

"Do you remember the party Glenn had......after Goolding?" Her voice was soft, languid. 

"The _"Fuck You, You Cunts" party?"_ He smiled slightly at the memory. 

"Yeah! Well, you remember the balloons and party stuff we had......?" 

"How can I forget! They were awesome! And fucking hilarious!" Malcolm placed little kisses against her stomach then looked into her face for approval. 

She smiled her assent, and he repeated the exercise, before covering her bare bump gently with her shirt and snuggling himself against her.  
Her arms came automatically around him, holding him in place, her cheek against the top of his head. 

"Well, that's my new business." She announced. 

"What the fuck......?" 

"You wanna see my website?" She raised herself under him, and he pulled away, sitting up again, his eyes dancing with amusement. 

Fetching her laptop, she opened it and punched in the web address. 

Up it popped. 

A bright and sassy homepage. 

_"FUCK YOUR FESTIVITY!"_

_"Tell your friends and family exactly what you think with our fun and hilarious party ideas."_

Below there were pictures of the various products on offer; balloons, banners, tableware etc. 

Malcolm's eyes widened as he scanned the page. 

"You're fucking kidding me.....?" He laughed. 

"Nope!" She scrolled the pages, flicking from one to the next as she showed him the whole site.

"And this is gonna be lucrative is it......?" His glance was sharp, but glinted with merriment. 

"It already is!" She replied proudly. "I did the balloons and stuff for Glenn's bash, got someone to do them specially. Then afterwards people kept asking me where they came from.....wanted some for themselves......so I thought......hey!......I could make a bit of money out of this......."

Malcolm's jaw dropped open, and with her finger under his chin, she closed it again with a snap and a chuckle. 

"I've been working with Paul's Tina. We've set it up together, she's a whizz on the business side, been there, done that, got the T Shirt. Paul helped with the web design. We've got a small office, and half a dozen workers, and more orders than we can fill......it's all exploded, gone mental, since your newspaper article came out!" 

"You're fucking unbelievable......" He breathed. 

"The great thing is, I can work from home......so when the baby comes, I'll be able to combine the two. I can do bookkeeping and all the administrative stuff. Tina has no kids so she can do the meetings and the promotion side of it. I'm enjoying it.....it's fun!" 

"Well I'll be......." Malcolm whistled, incredulous. 

oOo

More than a month passed. 

Files and information gathered by Paul Cassidy and Malcolm were handed over to the investigative team.  
A glimmer of light began to shine through the mire of hidden paper trails and computer links.  
Interviews with journalists lead back via a circuitous route to DoSAC.  
Computers and files were seized and confiscated. 

Deleted emails recovered from hard drives. Phone records checked. 

Two names seemed to frequently crop up. 

Russell Brewer and Oliver Reeder. 

The chase was on.  
The legal team closing in on those who had conspired to ruin Malcolm's reputation and career. 

Once enough evidence was collated, they would go to trial. 

oOo

The end of a very long day. 

Malcolm and Sam visited Greg Fraser's office to be re-interviewed in his presence by the police officers now investigating the case, as it became abundantly clear that criminal charges would be made. 

Recalling Armistice Day.  
At what time had he picked up the _'Tickel'_ file from Sam's desk?  
How long might it have been sitting there unattended? 

These were questions for Sam too. Had she left her desk at any time during that morning? And if so, for how long? Who else was in the office at the time?  
Yes, she had, several times, and for many minutes at a time. To fetch coffee, to go to the lavatory. To take files in to Malcolm and to use the photocopier. People came and went frequently. All the usual workers were there, naturally. 

Everything gone over and over in minute detail. Until her head ached. 

oOo 

Samantha Tucker kicked off her shoes in the hallway with a loud huff.  
One hand resting against the small of her back. 

Her feet and ankles were swollen and puffy, and she was desperately achy and tired. 

"Upstairs with you, wife!" Malcolm insisted, taking her hand. 

"But I've got to get the dinner on." She protested feebly. 

"No you don't! I'll cook dinner. You are going to lie on the bed and rest a while with your feet up."  
Too tired to argue she allowed him to lead her to their bedroom, where he proceeded to sit at the bottom of the bed and rub her tired feet. 

She groaned with bliss as she settled herself back amongst the pillows. 

"Is this all too much Sam? You'd tell me wouldn't you? I wouldn't put you through this for the fucking world.....should I just drop it?" 

"No Malcolm! Definitely not! We'll see it through to the bitter end. No matter what. If it was Brewer, then it was personal, against both me and you."

He came to her side, sitting next to her on the mattress.

"Face the other way..." He motioned, then lifting her top began massaging the base of her spine gently. 

"Oh! So good Malcolm......so good!" She crooned, as his fingers kneaded into her vertebrae. 

Sam's memories of Russell Brewer generally were sketchy. She'd never known him well, but thought him nice enough, he'd asked her to be his 'plus one' for the office soirée and she readily agreed.  
Recalling his treatment of her that party evening had been quite upsetting, as she'd been positive that had Malcolm not come to her aid at the moment he did, she would have been in serious danger.  
She certainly felt that way. He'd been drunk and belligerent, trying to force his attentions upon her. 

At the time she'd sunk down to the floor and blocked everything out, and really remembered nothing much until she reached her own home. 

It was most definitely a motive for Russell to dislike Malcolm so intently, hold a grudge, make an enemy of him. Particularly since he'd been demoted shortly afterwards.  
Undoubtedly down to Malcolm's considerable influence. 

Her new husband's own memories of that night were somewhat clouded, mainly due to his realisation that he had strong feelings for Sam which hit him like a fist right between the eyes. Feelings he was almost sure wouldn't be reciprocated from a beautiful woman almost twenty years his junior, and which placed him, as her boss, in a very vulnerable position. 

His overriding thought, in the cab after he'd left her that night, was what a stupid twat he was! 

As if to haul them both from their melancholic thoughts, there was suddenly an eruption. 

"Oh Lord! This little sprog of yours has woken up now!" Sam winced suddenly, smoothing both hands over her belly. 

"Here!" She whispered, taking Malcolm's hand in hers and placing it flush against her abdomen.

"Feel him! He's going nuts in there!" Malcolm's fingers were splayed flat over her bump with Sam's hand atop his, holding it in place, allowing him to experience the movements and spasms of his own child beneath them. 

His wide eyes met those of his wife, as her stomach rippled under his touch. 

She smiled at him, the most melting smile, which turned to laughter and a little cry of "oh!" as the baby kicked out strongly. 

"Fucking hell Sam! Does It hurt?" He breathed, not breaking their intense gaze. 

"Not exactly! But it feels a bit weird! Oh! There he goes again!" Malcolm found himself chuckling with unsuppressed delight. 

"He's going crazy! It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt in my life......I can't even begin to tell you......." He hushed a moment and bit his lip, quelling his rising emotion. 

"........just can't get my head around it.......it's mine.......ours.......fucking hell!" 

"Seriously Sam......this fucking case......should we carry on? What if we don't win? The legal fees will be catastrophic. We could lose everything. How can I do that to this little one?" 

He stroked her tummy tenderly. 

"No matter what happens, we have each other, and junior here....." She patted herself fondly. 

"........and we'll manage. Somehow. If the worst comes to the worst, we've got the income from _"Fuck Your Festivity!"_ That'll keep us in nappies and shoe leather for quite a while!" 

"Hell's bells Sam! You're so fucking amazing! Have I told you today how much I love you? And him or her!" He bent and placed a kiss just above her belly button. 

Sam drew him in, close to her body, their unborn babe between them, holding him as close as was physically possible. 

"You have! At least twice! And......God Malcolm!.......I can't even begin to explain what you and this baby mean to me! Sometimes I just can't believe how bloody lucky I am!" 

She stroked his head as it lay against her. 

"So, let's have no more maudlin talk! We will win! Because we are in the right, and I firmly believe that justice will be done. In fact I know it will. Then you and me, and Little Tommy Tucker here, will start afresh......from the beginning, a new life, a new everything.......together. And it'll be absolutely fantastic!" 

No answer came from the head cradled against her breast, just a slight whimper and a sniffle, and a grateful sigh of contentment. 

 

Fin.


End file.
